Resident Evil Survival
by urbanzombiekiller
Summary: My first fanfic, im a total RE nut so i thought i'd write my own RE story. please comment.


**RESIDENT EVIL: SURVIVAL**

**PART 1: The beginning**

Raccoon City, a desolate wasteland, I know, I once lived there.  
Several days ago the order came through, the City was to be destroyed, and destroyed it was. An entire civilisation , wiped out in the blink of an eye, all because of one mans mistake, a mistake that cost the lives of over 500,000 citizens, people, humans.

This is my story of horror, death, and fear.

This is my story of survival…..

I awoke to the sound of what sounded very much like breaking glass downstairs.  
"ah..crap..damn kids." I mumbled.  
I swung my legs over the side of my coffee stained bed, and sat there for a moment, ruffling my hair and adjusting my eyes to the dim light.  
A sound like someone walking….shuffling on glass shards, someone heavy.  
As I listened intently to the sound, which was growing louder by the second, I distinctly heard, or thought I heard a distant scream…  
Standing up, I slowly walked over to where my window was, and with a small grunt, shoved it up and out of the way, listening , I wasn't even sure I heard it, yet I was unable to stop staring at what appeared to be a very large dark coloured stain on the path outside my apartment.

As I finally recognised it, my breath seemed to get caught in my throat, blood… and lots of it by the looks of things, somebody was either dead nearby, or hurt badly and needed help.  
"oh shit…" was all I could say, as I turned back to my bed and retrieved a dark grey t-shirt with REVOLUTION printed on the front in red letters, and a pair of three-quarter length jeans, cut off at the knee.  
I was just pulling on my lucky red hat, when the door to my apartment creaked open, and a large shadow played across the floor, the shadow of a large-framed person who appeared to be swaying slightly, as if they were drunk.

For a moment nothing happened, then the door was pushed forward far enough so that I could see the intruder, but for some reason the lights in the hall were out, so I could not see his face, until he moved out of the shadows, and I realised something was wrong…very wrong.  
The guy was in about his mid-50s, wearing dungarees over a tight-looking blue shirt, and black trousers that had a rip in the left leg, just above the knee, he slowly, hesitantly stepped forward..and I let out a gasp of horror, the mans throat was entirely ripped out.

Acting immediately, I turned and ran behind my bed, determined to have the drop on the zombie, yes the zombie, I'm not stupid, I've played the Resident Evil series, and watched tons of zombie movies when I was younger, and it didn't take a genius to work out why a person with their throat ripped about was still walking around. Keeping my eyes on the assailant, I reached under my bed and produced a medium-sized chrome baseball bat, with "Striker" emblazoned on the side in sharp lettering.  
The zombie was slowly but surely making his way towards me, but being as stupid as he obviously was, he attempted to walk all the way around my bed, so I simply hopped onto it and down again, and grabbed my mobile phone of the bedside table, and an old scuffed lighter.  
I quickly shoved both into my tight pockets, silently cursing myself for not wearing more appropriate trousers. The zombie was now in front of me and I could of sworn that it was drooling…

That did it for me, I let the zombie have it, full swing, wired on adrenaline and 6 years of daily visits to the local gym, its lower jaw was immediately obliterated when struck by the blow, pieces of gum, tooth and god knows what else went flying off in the direction of the swing, my newly polished bat was covered in blood and meat chunks, but unfortunately it did not damage the brain, at least not yet.

The second swing struck dead on the zombies left temple, and it dropped like a ton of bricks at my feet, bleeding profusely from its new wound, I hurried into the small bathroom and cleaned most of the gunk off my bat and quickly picked up my black rucksack I'd had since I was 15 years old, with D-Boy written in red letters on it.  
After dumping the lighter into a side pocket on the rucksack I cautiously stepped out into the hall, my heart thumping erratically in my chest, my breathing rapid and heavy.  
As I slowly walked down the staircase to the lower floor, I paused to see if I could hear any more zombies thumping around, nothing, yet… I thought to myself.

I continued downstairs and proceeded to enter room 27, to see if my buddy Blake was okay, I walked inside and was immediately hit by an overpowering scent of vomit and blood, retching, I kept moving forwards with my left hand over my mouth and nose to block out the smell. The door to his bathroom was wide open and what I saw still haunts me to this day, Blake was dead, but that wasn't all, his entire head and neck were missing, a bloody jagged stump where the neck should have been was all that remained, a rather large pool of disgustingly black blood and vomit was next to the shower cubicle, which was absolutely covered in gore, and what looked like another figure slumped inside.

I slowly reached for the handle with my left hand, my bat in the right, and pulled the door open, I barely had a second to react as a rotting corpse drenched in blood, leapt at me, moaning and grasping for my throat…


End file.
